


Mistaken

by crimsoncomradeposts



Category: Girls (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, F/M, Longing, Mutual Pining, Regency Romance, Regency!Sackler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:22:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28551570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsoncomradeposts/pseuds/crimsoncomradeposts
Summary: He was never yours to begin with, this you know.The two of you had merely grown up together; you were nothing more than childhood friends tethered together by an affable bond between two families. When he had come of age, Adam left both his family and you behind in search of work opportunities in London where he had, or so you heard, become even wealthier than he had been prior to his departure. And now…
Relationships: Adam Sackler & Reader, Adam Sackler & You, Adam Sackler/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Mistaken

**Author's Note:**

> This is the result of a prompt sent to me by the lovely mariesackler over on tumblr (come say hi! you can find me over at direnightshade).

“Have you heard the news?”

The gentle clink of a porcelain tea cup can be heard as it is settled back down onto its designated saucer. To Marnie’s left, Shoshanna hides her smile behind the rim of her own cup as she tips it back to deposit a dainty sip of the still hot tea into her mouth. Your gaze shifts back and forth between the woman and you shift rather uncomfortably in your seat, brows furrowing in both confusion and mild amusement at whatever it is the two of them are keeping from you.

“No,” you reply, albeit a little more forceful than you’d initially intended. “What news?”

Both Marnie and Shoshanna exchange knowing glances and growing smiles, the looks earning a huff of exasperation from you.

“Out with it…”

“There has been _talk_ ,” says Marnie in her typical haughty tone, always so pleased with herself to be the first to know the county’s business, “of a certain someone returning from London.”

There’s that knowing look again, and almost immediately, you find yourself sitting a little straighter, your demeanor a little more lady-like as if preening yourself for the aforementioned someone who hasn’t even shown face. “A certain _someone_ ,” you ask, though try as you might, you simply cannot hide the hint of eagerness that shines through the question posed.

“Oh, _please_.” This time it is Shoshanna who speaks up, once again reaching for her cup of tea. “Do not dare to think either of us to be so foolish as to not know that you are well aware that it is your precious Adam who will be returning.”

A long stretch of silence follows her statement, and for a moment you find yourself at a loss for words, merely left to stare at her in disbelief whilst she sips her tea, quite unbothered by the revelation. _Of course_ it was Adam. Who else could it have possibly been?

The moment that your mind reels and catches up with a _very_ specific descriptor used to describe him your mouth opens to protest, but in true Marnie fashion, she is one step ahead of you.

“Alas, he is no longer hers, is he, Shosh?”

Immediately, your eyes shoot over to where Marnie sits still casually sipping her tea as if she hasn’t just dropped a very large and important nugget of information. Your face heats and your chest tightens at the thought, and yet…

He was never yours to begin with, this you know.

The two of you had merely grown up together; you were nothing more than childhood friends tethered together by an affable bond between two families. When he had come of age, Adam left both his family and you behind in search of work opportunities in London where he had, or so you heard, become even wealthier than he had been prior to his departure. And now…

“He most certainly is not,” Shoshanna replies, now setting her cup down one final time, its contents now completely consumed. Her hands begin to smooth the fabric of her dress, the motion languid whilst she speaks. “ _I_ heard that he has become betrothed to a Baroness who is undoubtedly much more well-to-do than anyone at _this_ table…”

An undignified snort escapes Marnie, the sound quickly dispersed by another sip of her now rapidly cooling tea. “Well-to-do financially,” she says once her sip has been consumed. “ _I_ heard that Mr. Sackler is rather unhappy.”

“Unhappy?” The word falls from your tongue embarrassingly quickly.

The two women sat across from you both smirk in that abhorrently annoying way they do. “Aye,” says Marnie. “She is a pretty young thing with a wealth one could only dream to have, but alas, I have been told she simply cannot keep a grasp on his heart.”

“She never stood a chance, did she,” interjects Shoshanna. “Not when it has already belonged to another.”

You swallow thickly, eyeing both of the women before you. “There is another?”

Unexpectedly, both Marnie and Shoshanna burst into a brief bout of laughter. “Oh, do not be daft, my dear,” Marnie says once the laughter has faded away. “Do you not recall the summer in which he left for London?”

Once again, Shoshanna interjects. “How he watched you so wistfully from his carriage…”

“No,” you reply almost immediately. “You must be mistaken.” And yet… You find yourself hopeful that these words will ring true.

“Why don’t you find out for yourself this evening.” Marnie’s smirk remains in place whilst she speaks, and like Shoshanna, her cup also now stands emptied. “You _are_ attending the ball for his return, are you not?”

You nod slowly in silent reply, your own cup of tea long forgotten and ice cold.

***

The second hand of the longcase clock that is displayed in the foyer of the manor in which the ball is taking place now strikes half past seven upon your arrival. A number of guests have already begun to convene in the manor’s ballroom and when you, too, join them you are immediately flanked by both Marnie and Soshanna.

“He’s already arrived,” murmurs Marnie.

“I should hope so,” you reply instantly, “this _is_ his home after all.”

“You look quite the treat,” Shoshanna shoots back, ignoring your quip. “I imagine Adam will undoubtedly agree.” There is a pause, and then a soft gasp as her hand reaches out to grasp your upper arm. “Speaking of which…”

She nods to your right, and when you turn your head, you’re greeted by a sight that steals the breath straight from your lungs. Standing a head taller than most of the others in this room is none other than Adam who, certainly judging by the way he is weaving through the crowd, has noticed your presence as well.

“Is he…” Your question trails off into silence, the words barely a whisper whilst you maintain eye contact, unable to look away from the man who is on a mission to reach you.

“On his way over,” asks Marnie. “Indeed it would seem so.”

Marnie and Shoshanna exchange glances and offer their good lucks and goodbyes, quickly leaving your side to disappear into the crowd before you so much as have the chance to object to their all too sudden abandonment. With a quick pivot, you turn around only to collide with an audible ‘oomph’ into a solid wall of muscle. Two large hands lift in immediate response to grasp your upper arms, steadying you on your feet. Your heart leaps in your chest at the contact and though your eyes begin to lift to look at the man who’s stopped you in your tracks, you are already fully aware of whom those hands belong to.

Slowly, your eyes trail upwards past the black wool vest and the gold buttons that keep it held snugly in place across a body that is much broader than the last time the two of you had crossed paths, past the golden colored ascot that is wrapped around a muscular neck, and further up to a face that looks so similar and yet so very different. His face is framed by dark sideburns that barely manage to peek out from the hair that has grown so long since you had last spoken, the strands appearing so soft in the warm glow of the room that your fingers twitch at the thought, at your longing to reach out and feel for yourself. His eyes, however, are the very same as what you had remembered them to be; still a lovely shade of hazel—honeyed you’d told him once.

Your lips part just as you feel the slip of his fingers from the skin of your arms, and just as it did when he’d left for London, your heart aches yet again.

Softly, your name falls from his own lips in greeting, a pleased smile taking root. “You look lovely tonight, though I will admit I did not think I would have the pleasure of your company this evening.”

A soft smile now touches your features in automatic response to his statement, one which holds so much surprise in the tone. “Yes, well, you were my friend once. I would be remiss if I did not join in celebrating your homecoming.”

The pleased expression on Adam’s face falters only a fraction, but just enough for you to take note. “Are we not still friends?”

There is a lingering moment of silence between the two of you, hesitation preventing you from responding quickly enough, and then: “Friends do not leave one another without so much as a goodbye. Friends do not fail to allow their communications to cease abruptly. So no, I do not suppose that we are.”

He can sense it, the hurt that your tone carries. It is as obvious to him as the melody of the piano that plays in this very room. Adam’s mouth parts, no doubt to provide some sort of explanation, but no sooner has his mouth opened than his name is called from nearby. He turns and you peer around his stocky frame only to find a young, pretty blonde who has now managed to grasp his attention, flagging him down to join her and the three gentlemen she’s convened with.

_I heard that he has become betrothed to a Baroness…_

_...a pretty young thing with a wealth one could only dream to have…_

You watch, helpless, whilst Adam leaves you once more, this time to weave his way through the crowd to approach the woman who is undoubtedly this Baroness Marnie and Shoshanna had spoken of so eagerly earlier in the day. He leans in, pressing one kiss to her left cheek followed by a mirrored kiss to her right. It feels now—while you are doomed to watch this unfold before your very eyes—as if your heart has physically cracked, splintering into tiny shards that you are certain may never mend.

Pivoting on the balls of your feet, you turn with the intention of making your exit, but just as your earlier move had been thwarted by Adam, so too are you stopped this time, now courtesy of Marnie.

“Surely you are not leaving so soon.”

The expression that you wear sours which only encourages her to roll her eyes and loop her arm around your own, leading you away from the room’s entrance.

“A valiant effort I will admit, however, you owe everyone a dance.”

You scoff indignantly. “I most certainly do not. Not you nor anyone else. I never agreed to a dance.”

“No,” she counters, only releasing her hold on your arm once she has positioned you to her liking whilst others in the room line up beside you to take their respective places for the dance.

The music in the room shifts and the sounds of a flute now join in with the piano. Across from where you stand is none other than Adam and beside him, the blonde, but like you, he seems to be equally focused on what’s standing across from him.

He swallows harshly and your fingers flex within the elbow-length gloves that you wear, and only once the tempo of the music picks up do you—along with everyone else partaking in the dance—take the hands of those that flank you and begin to step in tandem with the melody in one large, conjoined circle.

When the beat of the music shifts once more, the hands that you grasp now release themselves from your hold, and you turn to your nearby partner to reach for them, clasping one of their hands behind their back and the other behind your own. The two of you twirl and twirl. Your head swivels with each turn, eyes seeking out the familiar hazel. When you finally spot them, you find that not only is he much closer than you had anticipated, but that he, too, has sought out your gaze.

The two of you carry on like this, switching from partner to partner, never once breaking eye contact with one another until…

“I never thought you the dancing type,” Adam says good-naturedly, the corners of his mouth curling in a smirk when the two of you finally manage to pair up.

For a fleeting moment, your lips press together in display of your displeasure—a stark contrast to the sudden and rapid beating of your heart which now pounds against the interior of your ribcage. Gently, Adam glides the pad of his thumb against the back of your knuckles, pulling you from the thoughts that you have begun to lose yourself in.

“I most certainly am not,” you protest. “I can assure you that I did not come here for a dance.”

“Then why did you come here?” There is an edge to his voice, one that—dare you say—sounds hopeful.

His hands grip yours a little tighter and...has he gotten a little closer? You inhale a breath that sounds much like a soft gasp whilst the two of you continue to move in perfect unison.

“I… I came here because I—”

But there is no time to finish your sentence. Just as the song has continued so, too, do you and Adam move onto others, once again doomed to watch one another from afar.

***

It is two days later when your paths cross again. The sun is shining overhead, the sky is blue, and the flowers have all bloomed to fragrance the garden with their magnificent scents. The only dark cloud that has come to ruin a perfectly good day is that which comes in the form of one Adam Sackler.

He strides so confidently out of the home’s back entrance and into the garden where you stand, a hand delicately caressing the velvety texture of a rose’s petal. He looks, much to your chagrin, every bit as enticing as he had two nights ago, though his golden ascot has since been replaced with one that is blood red. It suits him, you think to yourself before dispelling the thought from your mind.

“What are you doing here,” you ask, the words leaving you in a rush as the rose slips from your grasp when you turn to face him.

“I have come to speak with you,” he replies, stopping short of where you stand in order to keep a respectable distance between you.

“You must be mistaken.” Your head shakes firmly, jaw set and resolve steady. “I did not send for you.”

“No. No you did not, and yet I am here.”

_“Why?”_

It is obvious in the way that he reels that the bitter tone in your voice has taken him aback. He is silent for a brief moment, lifting a hand to pull the wool felt top hat from his head, exposing more of his flowing mane in the process. “You left in such a hurry the other night. I did not have a chance to bid you a good night.”

The noise that you make is one of indifference. “How mirthful coming from the likes of you.”

“Enough,” he bites back.

Your hands work along the silken fabric of your dress, making vain attempts to smooth the fabric in an effort to keep yourself occupied as you gather your thoughts and debate whether or not to allow them to tumble from your lips.

And yet…

Tumble they do.

“Word spread rather quickly upon your return...of your _engagement_.”

Adam has the audacity to look shocked at your words.

“You asked me the other night why I came. I had hoped that they were wrong. But then I saw her…”

His brows furrow as if trying to comprehend precisely what it is that you are telling him. His mouth opens and closes only to open again, but before he is able to formulate a cohesive sentence, you continue to let the words flow so freely.

“And yet you had the nerve to look at me so fondly...so...so wistfully, I—” Your words trail off as your head shakes fervently, eyes averting his piercing gaze.

It is now that Adam seizes his chance, taking a step towards you, followed by another. “You are mistaken.”

Your gaze snaps back to his, eyes narrowing as if to decipher whether or not he is telling you the truth. Another step is taken towards you, and grasping his hat firmly in one hand, he reaches for you with the other. This move, however, is one made far too soon. You take a step back, dodging his grasp and halting his movement entirely.

“Don’t,” you whisper. “Do not presume to come here and make a play for my heart when you are with another.”

“ _You are mistaken_ ,” he says again, much more urgently this time.

“ _Do you love another?_ ” The question leaves you in a rush, and for a moment, there is only silence that follows.

But then…

Adam takes another step forward followed by another and another until finally he is mere centimeters from where you stand. The hat has long since been discarded onto the grass, his hands reaching out to frame your face.

“No,” he says firmly and with conviction. “I love only _you_.”

He leaves you with no time for a rebuttal; his lips meet yours softly at first, but when you reach to grab the lapels of his coat, fingers curling into the fabric, the kiss quickly becomes much more urgent.

When you are finally able to part from one another, your faces remaining close, your gaze lifts to look at him once more. “But what about—”

“My love, do you always make it a habit to listen to such gossip? There is _no one_ else. There never has been.”

A smile stretches across your features, a mirror of the one that is now displayed so prominently on Adam’s face, the dimples you remember as a child coming to light once more. He leans in yet again to press his lips tenderly to your own.

Finally, at long last, the love you had feared to be unrequited all these years is finally yours.


End file.
